Soul Exhibits
by Narushi-sama
Summary: A story about dissociative identity disorder, a story about mental illness. A story about two young men dealing with their alters. A story of pain, love, denial, loneliness and sorrow. NaruGaa, mature content in later chapters.


_AN: So, this story is going to be very difficult for me to write. It's about dissociative identity disorder (DID) and it probably will be kind of messy. But I still hope you will like it, guys. It's somehow very important topic for me, and I thought about putting Naruto and Gaara into the role of a DID person. If you see anything that bothers you, than I'm really sorry and you're free to tell me about it. Just DM me and we cant work it out. ^^ I really love your support, thank you._

Soul exhibits

His heart was a hieroglyph talking in tongues, and ten thousand voices filled his broken lungs but even through the white wave of their noises, he still heard, and he still knew. Hiding behind the wagon on an abandoned railway, he threw a quick glance around, and gave his bottle of spray a great shake. There was still place, it was okay, because there was still untouched place on the wagon, and he had the power to fill it. Through the years, this railway had closed up to the world, he hadn't any particular reason to return here but maybe that was the case, and he just kept on coming, over and over again, back. An unknown shatter occurred in the front of the wagon, and he panicked, letting go of the spray bottle, he jumped over the nearby fence like an assassin and hid in the bushes. Something was off, someone was there, somewhere. A strange feeling popped in the back of his head and right behind his eyeballs. As if something has been fighting his own identity and his own mind. As if someone was taking over him, taking the reins and making them both gallop to a safer place. But everything was happening inside of his head, he stayed silent, and closely examined the place around _his wagon._

Red strands of hair peeked up on the same spot he had declared as his own, a pale hand picked up his spray bottle and covered the last untouched place with few words. _His hair looked like blood_. And after vandalizing the abandoned train wagon for the last time in history, he threw the bottle on the ground again, and left.

Meanwhile, a strange power had raised in the little hideout near the railway, hugging his unstable self in its arms. But not for so long, a curiosity took over him rather quickly, and he was back on track again, making his way towards the old wagon. Every little bit of uncertainty that he had left miraculously disappeared with the morning dew, leaving nothing but a spicy feeling on the tip of his tongue, and the strange, and not entirely unwelcoming, courage. He didn't look for the person, even though he felt a strange anger towards him, maybe just because he just stole him his last possible place to spray on, he kept and eye on the freshly covered spot nevertheless, silently melting these words inside of his head.

 _Do you have voices inside of your head?_

The red spray stained a little bit of grass, turning a peaceful place into a murder scene, yet the boy with non-red hair didn't care. He picked up the spray bottle, and grinned widely at the ground, suddenly feeling more comfortable than ever, all the while he sprayed the answer on the ground.

"Ha, serves you right." He said with almost a joyful manner, when he was finished with it, and lost his interest in that place for now. Heading back home, in his style of walking seemed to be a little bit of happiness, too.

 _Do you?_

Just a few words written on the ground, looking like a blood stained carpet.

*/*/*

He hadn't visited his favorite place for a whole month. He couldn't remember properly what had happened after he hid in the bushes nearby the railway, but he knew there was someone there, destroying his quiet place and making it visible for the outside world, he didn't like it. That someone wanted to know if he was alone in his mind, and that someone was the first one to ask that question in a long, long time.

On a thursday night, he returned. But it wasn't really him stomping on a dry grass, listening to its crunchy noises that sounded under his feet with every step he made, and welcoming his old wagon with a grumpy face. It wasn't really him destroying his own diary written all over the rusted steel which belonged to that abandoned and shitty thing no one even cared about anymore. As he had expected before he entered this place, he wasn't alone. Not just in his own head but in this fucked up place, too. Looking over the shoulder, he locked his eyes with the exact same guy they had met a month ago. His blood red hair, his teal eyes full of wisdom, and his pale skin that reminded him of a porcelain.

"Why the fuck are you stalking us all the time?" He asked the redhead, who briefly smiled at him, not showing any emotion whatsoever, and closed the distance between them a little bit.

"My name is Gaara, to whom am I talking right now?" He asked confidently, raising his chin up so he looked even more intimidating, yet it didn't work out for the other guy, because he grinned dangerously and turned around to face him. He wanted to take his words and bury them six feet down below.

"Kurama, you idiot. Now leave this fucking place, it's a forbidden area. And you haven't even answered to my question, dammit! I'll kill you!" Kurama, an alter hidden behind the layers of the blond's personality, driven out to life at stressful events to ease the pain of suffering, was Naruto's protector. That much had Gaara learned during these past few months, when he watched the blond at this place. He was lonely, that cheerful guy, who's eyes resembled the wild summer skies, was a forced loner. Due to his dissociative identity disorder, he hadn't been able to maintain friends for too long, because it wasn't entirely easy for people to understand, to endure, to accept such person. Gaara understood. He tried to maintain his inner composure but soon after the threat had been said, Gaara's head felt suddenly as not his own. Heavily blinking, he made one step backwards, and then another, shaking his head in denial. Trembling hand found its way up to his eyes, covering them in a weak form of protection, yet the damage has been already done, and there wasn't a way back.

"Yo, hey, what…" He heard Kurama say, but he couldn't quite collect his thoughts, he couldn't grab onto any words, his vision blurred and before he passed the torch to someone else in his mind, Gaara fell completely silent.

"The hell, shitty boiiii?! What you just said?!" At first almost the same voice came out from Gaara's mouth, but with every passing second, it changed into something different, as if he was someone else and not him at all. High pitched, loud and quirky. Total opposite of the one before. To anyone else, it would seem like a game, like a bad joke. But Kurama understood.

"The fuck, no way."

There was an old sprayed message on the ground, simple and short.

 _I do._

*/*/*

Meeting someone with the same disorder was actually turning tables in numerous ways, and Kyuubi decided not to let go of that person so easily, yet Gaara's protector was way too annoying and it was pretty hard to stay calm with him nearby. And just when he thought his host, Naruto, would hate that idea of inviting Gaara (not very Gaara) over, he didn't show any signs of anxiety, so Kyuubi made a move. And once was this annoying guy settled on the couch, Kyuubi gave him a little lecturing glare. His blond strands seemed to be more spiky than before, as if Shukaku was seeing things, as if the person inside of Naruto had that big of an influence on the host himself. And it was true.

"Yeees, I wanted to cuddle on the couch for so long, fuck it! Everyone in the neighborhood just wanted to have sex in the car or on the street in the middle of the night! Kyaa! I'm fucking sick of it, but who can help this never ending hunger! Neee, you there, Kyuubi, right?! Wanna cuddle with me? We can have sex, just give me five hundred bucks and I'm yours, fucking hottie!" And that was Shukaku, quirky, loud, energetic, and a pervert. Alter, that worked as a protector had this role for a reason, and Kyuubi knew it, but it made him feel uneasy nevertheless. It made him almost sad.

"No, thanks, mate. Do you want some tea?" Neither of the hosts had the guts to show up, and it was fine, because both protectors were there to help them with their own fear and regret. Both completely different, yet somehow similar. Both being created from a trauma Naruto and Gaara had to endure during their childhood days. Kyuubi had learned to like Shukaku pretty quickly, and by the end of the day, they both laughed like two old men sitting in the countryside and watching their horses wildly run through the green fields of grass. But nothing was as happy as it seemed at a first sight.

Shukaku and Kyuubi got to know each other pretty well, few weeks had passed since their first night in Naruto's place, and since then they had been seeing each other every other day. But even if it worked out for them, Naruto and Gaara didn't know each other one bit. And with their protectors getting closer and closer, they eventually started paying more attention on what was happening, needless to say neither of them liked it. And that's when the trouble had began. It was also the first time Naruto had approached Gaara. Seeing a new text message from the host was at least a little bit awkward, because even though Gaara wanted to know Naruto, it seemed to be better this way, and with Naruto breaking the ice that had once formed between them, it felt like he was suddenly naked and without the power of changing this whole situation into something he had wanted. He was completely at Naruto's mercy. At least that's what he thought. The blond said he didn't want to see him anymore, not him, not Shukaku. He pleaded to understand his reasons, and added to never ever contact him again. And maybe reader might think that the story is about to end, but truthfully… This is where it started. Gaara never contacted Naruto.

Kyuubi set up his camera in front of his face and turned it on. Slightly growling in discomfort, he sat down by his desk and inhaled loudly.

"Hi there, guys. I really wanted to thank you for 100 000 followers, it hasn't been an easy path for us, to share our little world with you, but our faith is paying off. Now there are people who understand, and I'm beyond grateful for every one of you. There is this thing I wanted to talk about today. When I showed up in Naruto's head, he was just a small pebble, he tried to laugh off every single trauma he had been through, and I admired him for that. As much as he admired me for my strength and the capability to not give a fuck about others. But then someone came to my life and changed this attribute of mine, at least I think he did. We had known each other for a month and then suddenly my host, Naruto, asked to stop seeing this guy. We're strictly prohibited to contact him. So my plea for you is simple… Find him and show him this video. Naruto is in denial, he is lost, he doesn't know if he can trust this guy. And he let him go because his feelings started to rise. I'm asking all 100 000 of you. Find Gaara." And just when the video streaming ended, Kyuubi felt a sting in his heart, painfully roaming through the fields of his broken soul. Was he really the only one believing that Gaara could save Naruto and Naruto could save Gaara? This hatred inside of his host was not Naruto's, it was his. And he knew it, he just didn't want to admit it was him destroying Naruto from the inside.

He didn't want it to go viral, Naruto even didn't want to post that video, but it was too late, it was up in the world. And the world was searching for Gaara. To the world's pleasure, Gaara recorded a video of himself few weeks later. Naruto didn't know until one of his fans posted it on his social media. It went viral again. The story of two dissociative guys searching for each other through their alters was almost romantic. It wasn't Shukaku on the video, it was Gaara, and he was talking to Naruto himself.

And this time it was Naruto listening to that video, not Kyuubi. Something behind Gaara's mellow words felt so familiar, so painful, that he wanted to escape that sensation. Then he noticed Gaara was dissociating in front of the camera, he felt a strange urge to hide him from the world, to give him a shelter. Desperately looking at the screen of his computer, he couldn't do anything about it. Heavy blinking, staring into the camera, blurred lines of a thousand worlds written in one face. A switch came, and before anyone else could recognize it, the camera turned off. But Naruto knew, yet, still, again. For a brief period of time Naruto wanted to save Gaara.

One room, five thousand daggers, million possibilities, and none of it seemed right. Naruto's followers were increasing with each passing day, and he started to doubt Kyuubi's decision to make their disorder public. And everytime they switched in front of the camera, his fans loved it, as if it was some kind of a game, as if it wasn't real, and he kept telling himself that they just don't know, and they need a guide. A guide. Another few weeks had passed since Gaara uploaded his video, and they hadn't been in touch ever since. Naruto really wanted to forget about him, and keep on living his life, but it was impossible, not just because Kyuubi had been feeling blue, not because he felt quite responsible for it, and certainly not because he needed a friend. But also yes, because he was responsible, he was lonely and he needed a friend. And most importantly, he felt Gaara needed a friend more than anything else.

And the snakes began to sing, evening dew hid any signs of life trembling under the coat of the darkness, and gave nothing but unpleasant shelter to spirits without hope. One street after another, everything echoed in his ears, every little detail seemed to be written all over his body, soul. Pale wrists against the wet concrete, beautifully crafted bruises, turning into multiple colors of violence and pain. Eyes silently screaming as if to say "no."Body bending with pleasure as if to say "yes." And then the disgust, the valley of ten million insanities born on the surface of his innocently looking skin. The end of the road. The end of him. Laying on the wet ground, accepting the rain falling down and covering him with his blanket of drops, he felt tears running down his cheeks, hiding in between the lines of rainy evening. For no one to see. Heavy panting crushed the peace he had managed to find in his situation, and a feeling of guilt and shame started to boil within him, yet he couldn't recall what just happened, he couldn't remember and he didn't care anymore.

 _One drop, two drops._

Steadily falling down one's nose, steam forming words right beside one's lips, he didn't hear them. Wet spiky hair, clenched fists and blue eyes filled with care. And maybe he was dreaming, and maybe this was his dead end, maybe this was supposed to be his last breath, last sight. Last everything. Maybe he wasn't ready for this world, maybe he didn't belong here.

 _Gaara wanted to disappear._

"Gaara! Gaara, wake up! For God's sake, don't you dare die on me right now, do you have any idea how hard was it to find you in this damn labyrinth? Wake up! I said, _wake up!"_

Maybe all he was left with was this annoying guy, whom he didn't know one bit, but somehow he seemed to care. And maybe he was able to fill a little bit of that emptiness, gave his heart a little bit of that desiring peace. Someone had actually came along, who teared down those walls Gaara had built around his heart, and watching them crumble, he realized how much he didn't know about human kind at all. The path through the overgrown madness was destroyed by his amicable voice, which had dug into his skin with every spoken word. The rain blew the traces of tears that would otherwise have dried up on his face like two abandoned wells. And when Gaara's hands stretched forward, they found no void. He was there. Naruto was. He cried for someone he didn't know, trembling with cold and despair, showing sympathy to someone who didn't mean anything. Where was the end if not here? And what should it look like if not like this? 

_AN: What do you think? I know, it's kinda messy but I hope I can pull it out well eventually! Thanks for reviews, likes, everything._


End file.
